


Effective Contingency Planning

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [36]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers being assholes, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-12
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:15:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23609746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: This time, Rex hasplannedfor the force of nature that is Kit Fisto.Well.  Mostly.
Relationships: CT 7567 | Rex/Kit Fisto
Series: Soft Wars [36]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 44
Kudos: 583





	Effective Contingency Planning

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [An Observation of a Captain outside his Native Environment](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23443591) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506). 



> Yes, you read the tags/pairing correctly. Yes it WAS crack. That is becoming quite a theme with me.
> 
> This is just for me. You can read it too, if you want.

“Tell me Captain, which step of the plan are we on?”

The toron fish is really very good, Rex thinks. He chews thoughtfully. Not heturam1, of course. That’s difficult to do with seafood while maintaining its flavor profile. Its most definitely draluram2 though. The careful roasting with the venom sacs intact saw to that. And the presentation can’t be beat: the pair of venom sacs removed right before serving stand sentinel at the far corners of the plate, glistening iridescent in the low light. It is, by ten parsecs, the fanciest meal he’s ever had. He’s only ever seen pictures of anything that came close.

Rex lowers his fork.

“Cody,” he guesses. “Wait, no.” He eyes his table mate’s calm expression. “Wolffe.”

“Perceptive!” General Fisto praises. Rex allows his eyes to drift closed in pain, but doesn’t otherwise react. He sometimes likes to think he’s gotten this control-of-self thing worked out. Wolffe is enough to test anyone though.

“At any point in your conversation did he call me a Karking Nerd?”

“Twice,” Fisto agrees.

Wonderful. That means Fisto got Wolffe drunk first. Kot3. Rex taps his wrist twice under the table. There are several ways he could attack this, he considers. Hopefully his skin is dark enough that the flush he feels building under the collar isn’t apparent.

He chooses the attack that has the best chance of letting him finish the meal. He picks up the fish fork. Thank the Force for Ahsoka’s Coruscanti Etiquette homework, or Rex wouldn’t have known what a fish fork was.

The toron fish is _really_ good.

“If it’s all the same sir,” he says, “is there any way we can delay the humiliating details… until…until...”

General Fisto has a lovely smile, and the way he’s propped his chin up on one hand makes him look mischievous. Approachable. There’s a hundred thousand shades of yellows and greens shimmering in his skin and climbing into his lekk.

Rex clears his throat. He’s forgotten just what it was he was saying.

“Please call me Kit, Captain,” he scolds with one of those smiles. “I’d be honored if you would allow me to call you Rex.”

The sound Rex makes at least _seems_ like an affirmative. He accomplished that much. Rex takes a quick drink of a citrus-bright water. Its the eyes, he mourns. The moment he meets those eyes his brain reboots. It’s karking inconvenient.

“And I found it charming,” Fisto, Kit, assures him. “He really is quite fond of you.”

Rex thought Jedi didn’t lie much. He gives that the flat look it deserves. Kit laughs.

“In his particular way,” Kit corrects.

“Felt it through the Force did you sir? Kit,” Rex corrects before the Nautolan can. Congratulations, he says to himself, you’re at least someone functional. Banter is definitely a step up.

“I wouldn’t need to,” Kit insists. “His affection for you is obvious.” The smile Kit flashes then could only be called sly. “Even when he’s calling you a karking, polyfluff-headed nerd.”

Hardcase, Rex thinks. That’s who he’ll need to recruit for his revenge. Jesse would hold it as blackmail, and if he tries to recruit any of the other Shebse4 he’d first need to tell them why. Hardcase then, and maybe Hevy. Hardcase has had some sort of strange one-sided rivalry with the Wolfpack from the start, he won’t need a reason. Hevy’s just happy when there’s mayhem. They could make it a family affair, all of Domino squad chipping in so long as no one lets Cutup do the planning. Rex will say it’s squad management training for Hardcase. Jesse keeps saying he needs more of it.

It’s decided then. That’s what he’ll do. And, bonus, he can write Jesse up an in-Company commendation for the suggestion.

“Remarkable.”

Rex’s gaze drifts back to Kit and gets caught like a moth in his eyes.

“I can feel you planning, Rex,” Kit says, his accent rolling his soft words into something intimate. “Even now. Your mind is a truly remarkable thing.”

Rex knows, this time, that his flush is most certainly visible.

He swallows, looks at the ring of softly glowing whorls above the table providing the only light in the room. “I have received considerable training-”

“There are millions with an identical genetic profile,” Kit interrupts. “And each individual one of you shines distinct in the force. The training that you and your brothers completed may have developed your skills, but it had no effect on who you are. And you, Captain Rex, are a man with a truly remarkable mind.”

What do you say to that? How can Rex possibly respond? He can’t, so he doesn’t try. He returns to his meal. After a moment he hears Kit do the same.

The toron is the star of the meal, but the lightly grilled starchy grain and the slightly vinegary blue-veined leafy greens both hold their own admirably.

“Why,” Rex asks before he realizes he was going to. Kit tilts his head in wordless curiosity. “Why would you ask Wolffe about me?”

Kit gives him a quick, darting grin. “Isn't it obvious?”

It might be. Rex thinks he’s right on the edge of it, but he’s not sure if the assumption is a step he’s willing to take unprompted. That’s difficult to explain though, with all the nuances of expectations and social situations that exist outside this room, so he just shakes his head.

“It was clear during our last meeting that you had some difficulty being comfortable around me.” The understatement is kind, at least. “And I had… particular interest in addressing that. I had thought to talk to Commander Cody, I had heard that you were close. But.” Kit dabs his lip with a napkin and folds it atop his plate. “I saw the way he reacted to Obi-Wan and decided that no, he probably wouldn’t have any idea how to help me. You two, as it turns out, are _very_ alike.”

The insinuation is hard to ignore. Especially since Rex has watched Cody be distracted by his General performing shirtless kata, and walk into a door frame. Twice.

Rex is hardly that bad. He avoids Kit’s gaze.

“He did raise me,” Rex says, deliberately misunderstanding.

Kit laughs. “According to Wolffe, _Wolffe_ raised you. And occasionally Ponds helped.”

“Wolffe will happily twist the truth for his own amusement,” Rex shoots back. “You should take everything he says with a healthy dose of skepticism and then ask Cody to verify it.”

“I don’t know,” Kit muses. “He isn’t steering me wrong right now.”

Long, warm fingers curl around Rex’s. There’s something, something _arresting_ about the contrast between his skin and Rex’s.

“I wanted advice,” he murmurs, “on how to approach you, without the ah…”

“Flailing,” Rex says, flat.

Kit chuckles. His thumb rubs circles on Rex’s wrist. “It turned into a very amusing evening,” he shares, “but I was able to pick up a few slivers of insight. Including, as it turns out, all I needed to do was step back and give your mind time to plan. Will you tell me Rex? Where we are in the plan?”

Rex needs to focus on something, anything that’s not Kit or his eyes or his voice or his hand that curls into Rex’s like it fits.

He stares at the fish fork.

“Planning isn’t a list of steps,” he says. _This_ he can do, he can explain process. “People are too complicated. Think of it more of an initial premise, with IF/ELSE statements branching off from it with considerations made to how likely something is, and the potential for a branch to collapse into another or spawn its own branches at any time.”

Wolffe is right. Rex is a karking nerd. Why does anyone let him speak?

Kit makes an encouraging sound. “And the branches that led here?”

“Our spar this morning,” Rex allows. “Figuring out during that what sort of interest you had, if it was more than observing my combat capability. And then, how _much_ you were interested. Considerations for how much time either of us has on Coruscant, whether or not you were already on planet long enough to resupply and whether or not you would be here long enough to cook or if the meal would be commercial. You’re known as an excellent chef and that you enjoy it.”

Kit beams, Rex can see out of the corner of his eye. “I dabble,” he demurs.

A dabbling chef would never be able to manage toron spiced with hints of its own venom and not accidentally kill someone.

“Each branch,” Rex says and swallows. “Had a. Well a stunningly low probability.”

“Hmm.” Kit’s finger taps consideringly against Rex’s wrist. “I’m not about to argue with your analysis, Captain,” he says. “But I think your premise might have been slightly flawed.”

“I. I’m starting to see that.”

“And then? Are there branches that lead from here?”

Kit’s eyes are like deep water, Rex thinks. They’ll pull you in, overwhelm you, steal your breath.

“One or two,” he admits.

Kit smiles, a private thing just for them.

“I’d be interested in hearing about those. If you’d like.”

“ _Yes,_ ” Rex strangles out before he’s even finished talking. He’s so _damn lucky_ that Kit seems to find his… his everything _charming_. He really could listen to Kit’s laugh for an embarrassingly long time.

Rex is starting to suspect that the hand on his upper arm was meant a little more intimately than a hello. Without his armor the touch leaves him tingling in a way that’s far from unpleasant. When Kit draws his hand away Rex is incapable of not following.

He pauses though, just before Kit disappears through one darkened door.

“Can you. Give me just a second?”

Kit regards him, seems to decide not to ask. “It would be a shame to keep me waiting too long,” he teases.

Right. _Right_.

Kit slips into the other room and Rex spins on the nearly-invisible spot of silver crouching in a deeply shadowed corner. It sits, innocent and silent, and he is _not_ fooled.

“Listen,” he hisses and snatches up the mousedroid. “Tell Jesse to mind his own karking business or I will permanently assign him to be Admiral Yularen’s aide de camp.” He nudges it out into the hallway, ignores its rude blatt of binary and firmly shuts the door on its little spying face.

Okay. Rex runs a hand through his hair. He’s got some contingency planning waiting impatiently.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Lit. mouthburn - a sought-after state of intense burning in the mouth brought about by very spicy food . Back  
> 2\. vivid - used only of food, to indicate strong, distinct flavour, lit. *bright mouth* - one of the four essentials of Mandalorian cooking. Back  
> 3\. Strength. If this is your first time dabbling in this little universe of mine, know that this is an in-joke that started [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23407009). Back  
> 4\. Assholes. Back  
> 


End file.
